


let your heavy heart come home

by FullmetalChords



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet Ending, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, dimiclaude preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21928666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullmetalChords/pseuds/FullmetalChords
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, five years on from the death of their parents, and Edelgard and Dimitri are still struggling.Modern AU. A focus on Edelgard+Dimitri siblinghood, with a bit of background Dimiclaude pre-relationship stuff for color.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Claude von Riegan, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Claude von Riegan, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 185
Collections: The Timelesses





	let your heavy heart come home

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags, especially the implied/referenced self-harm (which takes place a few years in the past). While I think holiday fluff is a beautiful, wonderful thing, I wasn't feeling that this year, and instead wanted to focus on the struggles a lot of us face during the holiday season, especially when we've lost someone we love. I thought Edelgard and Dimitri might find it especially tough, considering everything they went through (even if I didn't make it *quite* so heavy here).

It is the 23rd of December, and Edelgard is at work, watching the darkened sky outside her window and praying the snow holds off until the evening.

The law office where she interns has been quiet today, with most of the firm’s partners having already taken off for the holiday. Technically speaking, no one required her to come in today, either, but Edelgard can use the hours, and she can think of many places she’d rather be today than at home, surrounded by unpleasant memories of holidays past. 

It’s good, at times like this, to keep herself busy. Even if all she’s been doing today is making photocopies, filing, and reorganizing the office pantry. Better to occupy her hands than to have other things occupy her mind. 

“Bah, humbug!”

Edelgard can’t help but jump at the grunt behind her, whipping around to see her fellow intern leaning against the entryway of her cube, grinning at her.

“Hello, Claude,” she says tartly, swiveling in her chair to face him more fully. “What do you mean by that?”

“Ah, you know.” Claude von Riegan leans against the partition, his arms crossed. “Working the day before Christmas, and all that. Not an ounce of holiday spirit to be found… Better take care, or you might find yourself visited by some _ghooosts_ tomorrow night.” He chuckles at his own joke, while Edelgard rolls her eyes.

“I could say the same thing to you,” she tells him. “You’re working the day before Christmas as well, aren’t you?” She ignores the rest of his words, the jab about ghosts that visit her on Christmas. If he only knew.

“Yeah,” Claude says with a shrug, “but I don’t celebrate Christmas. Never have.” At her expression, he laughs lightly. “Relax. Family’s Muslim, so growing up we didn’t really do the whole deck-the-halls thing. We’d do a nice dinner, though. Get the whole family together.”

Edelgard can’t help but notice the past tense. “Are you not doing that this year, then?” She keeps the question light; there could be many reasons why Claude is not among family at this time of year, and not all of them need be as tragic as her own story. She and Claude have worked together for nearly five months in this same law office — they share jabs around the water cooler, speak cordially, are able to collaborate on some larger projects — but she knows as little about his personal life as he must know about her own. 

Claude shakes his head. “My parents decided to spend December with my dad’s family in Iran this year. I couldn’t get the time off, or afford a plane ticket, so here I am.” He spreads his arms proudly, as though this dingy, fluorescent-lit law office is his first choice of where to spend the end of the year. “Probably catch a movie or something on Christmas Day just to get out of the house, since everything else’ll be closed.”

“Mm.” Edelgard can’t help the way the corners of her mouth pull down, imagining Claude alone in an empty theater. Edelgard does not consider herself a sentimental person, but the thought of anyone being alone on a day that is meant to be full of cheer and togetherness… well, no matter how artificial the construct might be, the image doesn’t sit right with her. She’s been through that pain before; she dreads to think of anyone else suffering it. 

But before she can complete the thought, Claude’s eyes drift to the window with a gasp. 

“Ah.” He points, and Edelgard follows, seeing with some dismay the thick flakes that have begun to fall while she and Claude have been talking. “That’s probably our cue to get out of here.”

“You’re right.” Edelgard quickly fills out her timesheet before logging off her computer, pulling on her coat and throwing on the thick red hat and scarf her brother made for her. Claude does the same at his desk across from hers, and they make their way to the elevator together, hoping to get on the road before conditions get too hazardous.

“Claude,” Edelgard says on an impulse, as they both wait for the elevator to arrive. “Tomorrow night, some friends and I are getting together for a white elephant party. It’s fairly laid-back, and only a few of us are still in town, but… if you’d like somewhere to be, you’d be welcome there.”

Claude raises his eyebrows slightly under his mustard-colored cap. 

“Really?”

“Yes.” She purses her lips. “Dimitri will be there, too. I think he’d appreciate the company.”

Dimitri had been Edelgard’s reluctant plus-one to the firm’s holiday party the week prior, one of her innumerable attempts to get her stepbrother out of their house. They’d only stayed for about an hour, but she recalls that Dimitri and Claude had seemed to hit it off. Or, at the very least, Claude was one of the only people at that gathering that Dimitri had made more than a few moments of conversation with.

She wonders if having Claude around might get Dimitri to behave himself this year, to not hole up somewhere with a jug of eggnog and ignore the world around him.

The elevator dings, and both of them enter the car. Claude gives Edelgard a lopsided smile.

“If you’re sure, then I’d love to. Thanks, Edie.”

She steps forward to press the button for the lobby.

“Don’t call me that.”

—

Claude might have been joking earlier when he’d called her a Scrooge, but in truth, there’s a lot Edelgard finds distasteful about Christmas. 

Part of it is the overt Christianity of the holiday, sending her back to unpleasant memories of her childhood. Back when she was young, before she and her mother had left the compound where her father and the rest of her siblings still live, Christmas had been solely a time of prayer and thanksgiving, with hours spent in their family chapel quietly commemorating the baby Jesus’s arrival. There had been no gifts or decorations in her father’s house at Christmas, no carols or roasting chestnuts; only solemn reverence toward a God that Edelgard stopped believing in around the age of ten. 

The only good memories of Christmas she has, in fact, are from her teen years, after her mother had left her father and married Lambert Blaiddyd, bringing Edelgard to live with them. Lambert’s house at the holidays had been straight out of a Hallmark film, with fresh pine garlands and tinsel everywhere, the whole family wearing matching pajamas on Christmas morning. Overly schmaltzy for her taste, yes… but those had been the days Edelgard had felt most like she was part of a family, finally part of a matching set, after feeling out of place in her large, devout family for most of her life. Those days, with her stepbrother by her side and their parents’ love around them, had been the only time she felt she understood the feeling of coming home.

But the accident had taken all of that away from them.

It had been her last year of high school, in a June squall. Her parents and brother had been on the way to Dimitri’s lacrosse tournament… and only Dimitri had come home, in the end. The car overturned on a winding country road. Both parents killed on impact. Dimitri, her little brother, physically unscathed but emotionally shattered. 

That had been five years ago, now. Life has thrown both her and Dimitri their share of struggles and triumphs in equal share, and most days it is… possible, if not always easy, for Edelgard to carry on with her life. 

But Christmas is the time of year when their loss hits both of them the hardest. Their home feels empty without Lambert’s handcrafted garlands, without the sound of Patricia singing German carols, without the smell of her special gingerbread recipe baking in the oven. Even the halcyon memories of Christmas past seem tainted, a blooming bruise on the calendar now that her mother and Lambert are no longer there to share in the holidays with them. 

Christmas had been too painful, that the first year after their parents’ deaths; neither she nor Dimitri had felt much like celebrating anything with their parents gone. Edelgard had taken an emergency double-shift at the retail store she’d worked at back then, while Dimitri had brooded at home alone. The second year was even worse: Christmas Eve had been spent in the hospital, Edelgard weeping at Dimitri’s bedside while wishing, desperately, that her mother had been there to tell her how to help him.

This is the fifth Christmas without Patricia and Lambert. After those first two awful Christmases, Edelgard and Dimitri began to bounce back, to rebuild their lives. By now, they have come to form traditions of their own, small ways to celebrate and commemorate the ending of the year. And the Christmas Eve white elephant party at Hubert and Ferdinand’s is the most treasured ritual of all.

“El!” she hears her brother shout from his bedroom. “Where did you put my sweater?”

“It’s hanging on the line,” she calls back, pulling her own holiday sweater over her head. She hears the thud of Dimitri’s footsteps as he lumbers to their laundry room, and gives herself a critical once-over in the mirror. Her brown hair is getting more gray streaks in it at the crown of her head, even at the age of twenty-two; she’ll have to think about either dyeing it or bleaching it soon, even though either seems like a hassle. With an impatient sigh, she gathers it to one side, giving herself a stylish low ponytail. 

Dimitri appears in the doorway, looming, still only in his undershirt as he holds his blue sweater in his hands, looking forlorn.

“It doesn’t fit,” he tells her. Edelgard frowns, coming over to inspect it. 

“It didn’t shrink, did it?”

Dimitri shakes his head, his shaggy hair waving about his face as he does so. “I think… I think I grew.”

Edelgard’s stomach drops, in spite of herself. Dimitri has gotten broader over the past year or two, a byproduct of his frequent visits to the gym. Exercise is one of Dimitri’s healthier coping mechanisms, replacing the self-harm he’d practiced in the first two years after losing their parents, when Edelgard had been too wrapped up in her own grief to notice or stop him. But the fact that his shoulders and arms have filled out so much…

“It’s too small for you now,” she says, and Dimitri nods, looking miserable. “Oh, Dima. I’m so sorry.”

She closes her hands around the soft wool sweater, pressing it back into Dimitri’s hands. Lambert had made the sweater for Dimitri himself, blue with a pattern of lions dancing along the chest and shoulders, during the last Christmas they’d had together. Edelgard is currently wearing the matching one, a black number patterned with burgundy roses. Neither lions nor roses may be particularly Christmassy, but Lambert had used to call Dimitri his “little lion,” while Edelgard was his “crimson flower”. The sweaters were — are — special to the two of them, and the fact that Dimitri’s must now be packed away into mothballs like so many other pieces of his father…

“If you can’t wear yours anymore,” she decides abruptly, “then mine has to go too.”

“El…!” 

She ignores her brother’s protests, turning her back on him so she can whip off the sweater. Dimitri gives a strangled yelp behind her, muttering something like “unnecessary,” but she doesn’t listen, neatly folding her stepfather’s gift and placing it onto the bed before heading to her closet to grab another sweater. 

“Put on something green,” she tells him, pulling a plain, storebought cranberry top over her head. “That should be festive enough.”

She turns back to the doorway, seeing the way Dimitri’s lip trembles. His good eye — the one he left intact on that horrible day three Christmases ago — is slightly watery, though he seems resolute not to cry. 

“It just feels like we keep losing them,” he says, looking down at the blue sweater in his hands. “More and more pieces, gone, every year…”

“Don’t think about that,” Edelgard tells him firmly, taking her brother by the shoulders. “Now go get dressed. Hubert and Ferdinand are going to wonder what’s keeping us.”

She wants to keep Dimitri from saying more for her own sake as much as his. If Dimitri starts to wallow in his sorrow, he may start talking to their parents’ ghosts again, indulge in the delusions that have resided in his head ever since the accident. And if Edelgard starts to wallow in her own sorrow… 

Well… she will never be able to keep moving them both forward. 

Dimitri wilts, but nods, resigned. 

“Very well.”

—

Hubert and Ferdinand have shared Hubert’s parents’ brownstone for nearly three years now, since Hubert maneuvered the property out from under his father’s nose. Ferdinand always goes all out for holiday decorations, and this year is no exception. Edelgard’s senses are assaulted with holly, pinecones and the smell of hot apple cider as soon as Ferdinand flings open the door. 

“Merry Christmas!” he says with a grin, leaning in to kiss the air over Edelgard and Dimitri’s cheeks. “Ah, both of you look well! It is good to see it.”

“You are looking lovely as ever, Edelgard,” Hubert drones from behind his fiance, raising a hot toddy to toast both siblings. “Don’t simply stand there, Dimitri. You’re letting the warmth out of my home.”

Edelgard and Dimitri step inside, discarding their outer layers in the foyer and stamping the snow from their shoes. It is no longer snowing, though the sidewalks are still covered in unshoveled snow, the air crisp and the wind cutting through their clothing like a knife.

The two of them venture into the living room, where a real pine tree, seven feet tall, is front and center. A few familiar faces are around, helping to decorate the tree: Their old neighbor Mercedes grins when she sees them, leaving the tree to wrap Dimitri in a tight hug. Mercedes’s brother Jeritza, too, is there, who crosses the room to shake Edelgard’s hand and exchange quiet greetings. Looking thoughtfully at the top of the tree, the angel topper in his hands, is Dedue, Dimitri’s former live-in nurse who had stayed with them following his breakdown. Dedue had been instrumental in aiding her brother’s recovery, and Edelgard will always be grateful for both Dedue’s help and his friendship. 

And rounding out the party is…

“Hello, Claude,” Edelgard says, coming over to where Claude is grappling with a beaded garland. “Would you like some help with that?”

“Ah, nah,” he says, though he leans in to give her a quick one-armed hug. “I got it untangled, now I just gotta… fiddle with it.” His eyes go over Edelgard’s shoulder, and his eyes light up. “Hey, Dimitri! Looking good.”

Dimitri gives him a curt nod, then looks away. He’s still slightly upset that he wasn’t able to wear his father’s sweater tonight, Edelgard knows, and she quickly works to change the subject. 

“Is Ashe joining us this year?” she asks Dedue, who has just settled the angel atop the tree and has now stepped back, surveying his work. 

“Later,” Dedue tells her with a courteous nod. “He had to take an afternoon shift at the hospital, but ought to be here in time for dinner.”

“Good.” Dedue’s boyfriend is the newest addition to their inner circle, a kind and quiet presence who both Edelgard and Dimitri feel at ease around. Dimitri’s best friends from high school are usually in attendance for Hubert and Ferdinand’s Christmas Eve party, as well… But this year, Ingrid, Felix and Sylvain have decided to spend the holidays in Bali, where they can lounge on the beach instead of huddling under layers of blankets by the fire. 

They get back into the swing of things, with Edelgard and Dimitri finding places on the tree to hang ornaments. Claude is, true to his word, fiddling with the garland, draping it around the tree only to fix the placement every three seconds. Edelgard is faintly aware of carols being played in the background, some kind of cheery music that’s grating at her nerves.

She feels like she needs to get somewhere… quieter. Not because the party is loud, but because of the… overwhelming Christmas-ness of it all, picking at her sanity like a loose thread. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” she tells no one, and heads into the kitchen. There’s a pot of cider on the stove, cloves and a cinnamon stick floating on top, and Edelgard dips the ladle inside to serve herself. She takes a drink, long and slow, and closes her eyes. 

She doesn’t understand why this still hurts so much, after so many years. Doesn’t understand why she’s still so weak, letting her emotions weigh her down. If she could burn her heart out of herself, if only so she can find the strength to live on… Edelgard thinks that she would do it, without hesitation. 

“You need not feign cheer, Edelgard. Not for my sake.”

She turns to see Hubert standing by her side, looking at her solemnly. She sighs.

“I know,” she tells him. “I feel as though I am… bombarded, at this time of year, with reminders to be happy, when there are times that that is the last emotion I feel.” She touches her breastbone, sighing again. “I have worked so hard to rebuild my life, after losing my parents. After everything that happened with Dima. He and I have come so far, these last five years. I wish… I wish to celebrate _those_ things, rather than forever be reminded of things I will never have again.”

Hubert hums thoughtfully. 

“That is the problem with a holiday based around ‘goodwill toward man,’” he says. “Humankind is, at times, shockingly insensitive to what lies within the hearts of others. Not all of us are quite so able to be holly and jolly throughout December.”

He gestures with his head to the cranberry wreath that Ferdinand has hung on the wall of the kitchen, no room in their home gone undecorated. Edelgard smiles in spite of herself. 

“I know the Christmas spirit is important to Ferdinand,” she says. “To Dimitri, too. I cannot help but feel as though I must apologize for not being able to feel what they do.”

“There is no apology necessary.” Hubert rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You are the strongest person I know, Edelgard, simply _because_ you do not let yourself luxuriate in useless emotions. Do not trouble yourself with others’ expectations of you, during this season or any other.”

Edelgard smiles gratefully at him, touching his hand in thanks. Hubert is one of her oldest and dearest friends, ever since she moved here with her mother. She is thankful that she has one person in her life, at least, who is able to understand her needs so completely. 

“Thank you, Hubert.” She takes a deep breath. “Now, you should get back to hosting. Don’t leave all of the work to Ferdinand.”

“But Ferdinand simply revels in playing host,” Hubert says with a good-natured roll of his eyes. “If we do not host a party at least every other week, I think he might cease to be.”

Nonetheless, he departs from her, leaving a kiss on the back of her hand as he does so. Edelgard goes back to drinking her cider, letting its flavor sit on her tongue and putting all else from her mind. 

She emerges from the kitchen about ten minutes later, her smile repaired, ready to rejoin the festivities. 

“Ah, Edelgard!” Ferdinand grins at the sight of her. “The white elephant gift exchange is about to commence. Would you mind fetching your brother?”

She frowns slightly, her grip tightening on her mug of cider. “Fetch him?” Her eyes scan the room, and she realizes, immediately, that Dimitri is not in the living room, as she’d thought. “Yes. I’ll… check upstairs.”

Edelgard leaves the living room, heading quickly upstairs. She is trying, desperately, not to think of what trouble Dimitri could have gotten up to up here, alone. She hurriedly checks rooms, closets, bathrooms, trying to find where Dimitri might have hidden himself away, praying that she hasn’t looked away from him at a critical moment again.

“—wonder when Christmas, especially, will no longer feel like a time of loss.”

Edelgard’s ears perk up at the sound of a voice coming from the guest room, where she and Dimitri have occasionally slept over. Dimitri is talking in a low voice, seemingly to himself.

“Father loved Christmas,” Dimitri says softly, and Edelgard continues making her way down the hall. “More than any other day, more than his birthday or Father’s Day, I am constantly thinking of him at this time of year.”

“I think that’s understandable.” Edelgard is so surprised to hear a second voice coming from the room that she stops in the doorway to listen. “He was the only family you had for a long time, right? Christmas must have been special when you were growing up. I can’t imagine what losing him must have been like for you.”

Edelgard peers carefully into the room to find her brother sitting in the corner, his back pressed against the wall. Despite his height and bulk, he looks small, like he is trying to shrink back into the walls. Claude sits across from him, not crowding him, but simply… present. 

Dimitri takes a deep, shaking breath. 

“I know it’s just one day,” he says, his voice sounding thick. “I know it’s just one stupid sweater. I will be fine, once I can take the time to process this latest loss and move on from it.”

“No one says you have to be fine.” Claude is speaking so gently with her brother that a lump forms in Edelgard’s throat, unexpectedly. “I’ve never lost a parent… I haven’t been through what you have. I can’t even imagine it. But I know we all grieve differently. And if that means you have to hide in your friend’s guest room and cry over a shrunken sweater… that’s okay. That’s more than okay.”

Dimitri sniffles, looking down at his knees.

“El seems to move on so… easily,” he says, and Edelgard starts at the sound of her name. “I cannot help but envy her.”

At this, Edelgard can no longer keep quiet.

“Dimitri…”

He looks up at the sound of his name, and Claude turns, startled. Now that he’s moved, Edelgard can see that he’s holding her brother’s hand… and that will need to be discussed later, but for now she must speak. 

“It is not easy for me to move on,” she tells them both, and looks down at her plain red sweater, suddenly wishing it were black, patterned with red roses. “Living with loss is never _easy_ , Dimitri. It simply… becomes more familiar.” She takes a deep breath, wanting to speak without completely melting down in front of them both. “I keep moving because I must. For your sake as well as mine. So please…” She closes her eyes. “Please, do not think me coldhearted because I do not weep over Mother and Lambert, or because I take little joy in celebrating Christmas…”

“El,” Dimitri murmurs, and he gets to his feet, moving over to envelop her in a hug. She tucks her head under his chin, pressing her face into green wool as she fights back her emotions. Dimitri’s hands run along her back, frenetic and soothing, and she lets out a lone sob, quavering in the air. 

“It’s been five years, Dima,” she says, muffled into his chest. “I want this to be easy by now. It’s… frustrating that it isn’t.”

“I know,” he says, hushed as he rocks them both back and forth. “You don’t have to keep being so brave, El.”

“Yes, I do,” she protests, even as her eyes fill anew with even more inconvenient tears. Jesus, not now. Especially in front of Claude, who is standing somewhat awkwardly in the corner, uncertain of what to do. 

“Okay,” she hears him say, and she and Dimitri break apart, Edelgard wiping hurriedly at her eyes before her tears have a chance to smudge her makeup. “Getting better, learning how to get along with your grief… that’s a long process. I know that. But…” Claude shifts his weight uncertainly from foot to foot, looking at the ceiling as he thinks. “What can the three of us do to make _today_ easier? How can we get you two through the day?”

She and Dimitri look at one another, the corners of Edelgard’s mouth turning downward. In truth, she has no idea. Her tendency to push aside any unpleasant emotion has left her with little ability to cope with them, other than continue to bury them. 

Dimitri, on the other hand, smiles down at her, taking her hand.

“I want to go back downstairs to our friends,” he tells her, and looks at Claude. “Not only to prevent them worrying, but… I feel it will do both of us good, to remember we are not alone.”

He looks at Edelgard expectantly, so sincerely that it aches for her to look at him. And then Dimitri squeezes her hand once, then again… and then a third time, and Edelgard’s heart jolts, reminded suddenly and painfully of her mother. When Edelgard had been overwhelmed with anxiety or emotions that left it difficult for her to speak… Patricia used to squeeze her hand, twice, three times, as her silent way to tell Edelgard that everything would be all right. 

Perhaps it is a meaningless platitude, a meager comfort that was all her mother could offer a hurting child. Perhaps it is wishful thinking on Dimitri’s part, some false comfort that someday, things will go back to the way they used to be. 

Or maybe he is trying to tell her that it is time to move forward. To not leave their pain in the past or let it crush them, but to learn how to walk with it at their side.

Edelgard takes a deep breath, and squeezes her brother’s hand three times.

“You’re correct,” she tells him, and smiles. “Let’s go back.”

Dimitri looks back to Claude, offering him his other hand, and Claude steps forward, a slight flush on his cheeks as he takes it. 

Downstairs, in the living room, there is light, and warmth, and Mercedes’s soft molasses sugar cookies to enjoy. There is chatter, and friendly squabbles, and Christmas music being gently crooned through the loudspeakers, a German carol about roses blooming in winter that her mother and father had both loved. 

“ _Und hat ein Bluemlein bracht_ ,” Edelgard sings softly to herself alongside the recording. If she closes her eyes, she can still remember the way her voice had blended with her mother’s, singing this song. “ _Mitten im kalten Winter, wohl zu der halben Nacht._ ”

Tonight, there are gifts, there is food, there are friends… and all around her, there is love.

Edelgard may never love Christmas again, but the love of her newly found family blossoms within her heart, all the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> Fic's title comes from "Dear December" by Bobby Jo Valentine, a really gorgeous song that my chorus performed (albeit at a slower tempo) at our holiday show this year. You can hear the original song linked [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u97vk6GOhCI) if you like. 
> 
> The song Edelgard sings at the end is the traditional carol "Es ist ein Ros entsprungen," aka "Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming". If you're not familiar, here is the first verse in English, with Edelgard's line bolded:
> 
> Lo, how a rose e'er blooming  
> From tender stem hath sprung  
> Of Jesse's lineage coming,  
> As men of old have sung.  
>  **It came, a flow'ret bright,  
>  Amid the cold of winter,  
> When half-spent was the night.**
> 
> I know the song's about Jesus, but it just made me think of Edelgard. It's also my German grandmother's favorite carol. 
> 
> This was really cathartic for me to write. Whether you're having a happy holiday season or a difficult one, if you've read this far, I hope reading this fic meant something to you. 
> 
> I'm @apostaroni on Twitter.


End file.
